She showed the letter to Mark.
‘Well that seems pretty straight forward, doesn’t it? His eyes lit up as he looked at her. ‘If you move in we could use the conservatory whenever we need to cater for something special.’
‘But that wouldn’t be right,’ Suzi protested. ‘I can’t pretend it’s mine and do just what I like as soon as I move into the place.’
Unwilling to upset her, Mark hesitated before speaking.
‘No, of course not, but surely there would be nothing against your hiring a room to The Stow Restaurant occasionally. If you tell Pardoe that you’re willing to share the profits he’ll probably agree. It would achieve two things. Firstly, it could provide an income from the place and secondly it would prove that your idea was feasible.’
‘That’s brilliant, Mark. I’ll give Duncan a call straight away.’
‘What will you do with the bungalow?’
‘I’ll put it on the market eventually, of course. But I can’t do that until I know exactly what’s happening about Caxton Manor, or I could find myself without a permanent home. The bungalow should fetch a good price… enough to sort out all my financial problems.’ She sighed. ‘It would be nice to be free of debt.’
As winter gave way to spring the tourist numbers began to increase and the restaurant trade reacted accordingly. It was too early to predict whether the catering side of the business would follow suit, so Suzi maintained her stance and refused to consider leasing a bigger property.
‘We might get it wrong. It’s too risky,’ she said, the last time they discussed the matter. ‘We could bite off more than we can chew and lose everything.’
Eventually, as Suzi made plans to move into Caxton Manor, Mark began to wonder whether it had been a good idea to suggest it in the first place. If he had realised that she was prepared to sell her bungalow eventually, he would have offered to let her share his flat. It would have made things a lot easier for him in the long run, and one thing could lead to another if they were living together under the same roof.
If only he could raise enough money himself to buy the New Zealander’s share. As half owner he could take up residence and from that point onward he would be in the driving seat. But in the meantime, he had to concentrate on picking another winner.
‘Hello all,’ announced Gary Hyland’s animated arrival. He had recently returned from an extended holiday in America and looked more prosperous and tanned than usual. He clapped Mark on the back. ‘So, how’s it going? Are you still betting?’
‘Yes, but I’m not doing as well as I’d like to, I’m afraid.’
‘Hang in there, you’ll be okay.’
‘Yeah, I need a break.’ He explained the situation to his friend. ‘I want to come up with the cash before Suzi gets settled into the Manor on her own.’
‘Yeah, fine, but don’t be in a rush. If you try too hard you’ll make mistakes.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Look, I must go. I might slip in later in the week and see how you’re doing, okay?’
*
Steve scanned the faces on the other side of the barrier when he walked into the main concourse and gave a sigh of relief when he saw his father. He had dreaded the thought of returning to an empty house.
‘How are you son?’ Vince said grasping his hand. ‘Is everything under control?’
‘I’m okay, but how about you and Norah?’
‘We’re coping… just. The funeral went off without a hitch, thank goodness.’ He sniffed noisily. Big
‘Did you…?’
‘It’s all right, I made a point of talking to the Ruawhane clan. I said that we couldn’t notify you in time to come home. I said you sent your condolences… you know all the usual stuff. They were okay about it.’
‘Thanks Vince.’
As they drove home, Steve filled in some of the missing gaps of his dealings with Tony Randall and their former employee, Nick Bolte. Then he spoke about his visit to the Proserpine mill and his conversation with the engineer in charge. He concluded by saying,
‘Nick’s definitely interested in looking after things for us in North Queensland.’
‘And you reckon that Randall’s promised to talk to some his colleagues at the other mills?’
‘Yes, and he’s a pretty genuine bloke. All the mills stick together… it’s a tight community.’
Vince brought the car to a halt outside the house and turned to Steve. ‘Now are you going to be okay?’
Steve shrugged his shoulders.
‘You mean about Kirsty? Yeah, I guess so. I’ve had time to think about things, and although I feel badly about the way she died, I believe she did the right thing in going. We may not have liked the idea of her taking up with Joey Ruawhane, but it’s what she wanted.’
‘Yes, but she’d still be alive if…’ Vince stopped, as Steve laid a hand on his arm.
‘Yes, alive, but not happy. I couldn’t provide what she wanted, nor could you or Norah.’ Steve hesitated before continuing. ‘I know it sounds a bit callous, but she had some time with the man she really loved, even if it killed her in the end.’
Vince just looked at him for a moment and then stepped out of the car. ‘Come on, Norah’s waiting for you.’
Tears welled up in Norah’s eyes as he kissed her cheek.
‘It’s so good to have you home, Steve.’ She held him close for a few minutes and then broke away. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’ The atmosphere at the evening meal was rather subdued, and it wasn’t until they had settled into the lounge that it improved. Both Norah and Vince were keen to hear of Steve’s experiences in Queensland, and when he finished relating the episode at Airlie Beach they looked at each other in amazement.
‘And you think it really was the woman who is associated with the inheritance?’
‘Yes, I do. Crazy isn’t it?’ Then he told them about the conversation he’d had with the woman on the boat. ‘I keep wondering what would have happened if we’d met up again.’
‘It’s probably better that you didn’t,’ Norah remarked quietly. ‘You’ve enough to cope with at the moment without adding another problem.’ When Vince went to the bathroom, she laid a hand on Steve’s arm. ‘This woman is more to you than just the other claimant , isn’t she?’
‘What makes you think th…?’ He stopped when he saw the look on his mother’s face. ‘How do you know?’
‘Call it woman’s intuition or whatever, but I think she’s important to you. Am I right?’
‘Yes, and no. I’ll tell you about it later,’ he said, as Vince came back into the room.
As soon as he finished work the next day, Steve drove out to the cemetery where Kirsty had been laid to rest. The two mounds of earth were heaped high with flowers and bouquets, and someone had placed a small cross on each grave. He stood looking at them for a long moment and then bowed his head in prayer. Unsure of what he should say, he wondered what Kirsty would have wanted to hear. Thoughts whirled around in his head until they took form. There was nothing to forgive and nothing to ask forgiveness for, either. They had both made mistakes, but they had shared a common bond and loved each other.
As he straightened up Steve became aware of someone behind him. He turned to see a middle-aged Maori woman gazing at him intently.
‘You must be Steve Pardoe,’ she said, without any preamble. When he nodded his head, she continued. ‘I’m Kathy Ruawhane, Joey’s mother. I had a feeling you’d be here today.’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t at…’
‘It’s okay, your father explained,’ Kathy said, quietly. ‘Maybe it was better that you weren’t here.’ She gestured at the graves. ‘They’re at peace now.’ Then she sniffed noisily. ‘They didn’t have much time together, but they were very happy for a short while.’ A soft breeze tugged at the massed flowers causing some of the petals to fall to the ground. Then as quickly as it had come, it went.
Steve cleared his throat.
‘I’m sad that things turned out the way they have, Mrs Ruawh
ane. My own relationship with Kirsty was very special, but I know that your son, Joey, had more to offer than I could ever give her. She always felt that she should have been born a Maori, a full blood Maori, not half Pakeha.’
‘She told me that too.’
‘Vince and Norah, and myself as well, we never really understood how important your culture was to her.’ He choked back a sob and then spoke of their life together. He recounted his reaction to Kirsty the day Norah brought her home and explained that the little girl was now a part of the family. Steve paused as he recalled Kirsty’s efforts to fit into their society. ‘My folks should have let her go when she wanted to.’ He paused again. ‘And I was just as much to blame that she wasn’t allowed to leave freely.’
‘We all do the wrong thing for what we think are the right reasons,’ the woman said.
Steve looked at the woman for a long time without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, and yet there was so much that needed to be said. There was a need to communicate, to bridge the gap that had existed between their respective cultures for so many generations. He reached out tentatively for the woman’s hand and then sighed deeply as she clasped it warmly between her own.
‘I don’t know what more to say.’ He stifled another sob. ‘I’m pleased that I was finally able to let her go.’
‘That must be a load off your shoulders.’
‘Yes. Yes it is.’ He paused and then added, ‘Please extend my sympathy to the rest of your family, Mrs Ruawhane.’
As he drove away from the cemetery, Steve thought about their conversation and the words he had offered as a prayer by the graveside. He had difficulty with the concept that a person never really dies, but that they just move out of their body to inhabit another dimension, and yet he was convinced that Kirsty had heard his words. And not only that she had heard them, but he felt she had forgiven him for his misunderstanding of her.
Joey’s mother had been right; it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When he returned home that evening, Vince handed him a sealed envelope. Steve read the unfamiliar writing on the front. ‘Steven Philip Mathews. What’s this about? Why are you giving it to me now?’
Vince pulled a face.
‘Because I’d forgotten all about it. And it’s all yours, Steve.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry. I was going through the desk looking for the bits and pieces concerning Kirsty when I found it.’
‘It was amongst your parents’ effects,’ Norah explained, ‘tucked into a portfolio of insurance documents, birth certificates and things like that.’
Steve gingerly opened the envelope and withdrew the sheets of paper. He glanced at the heading on the letter that was clipped to the top. It bore the name and address of a company of share brokers in London, and confirmed the purchase of a large number of shares in an international oil company. He checked that the figure in the letter matched the number of share certificates and whistled softly.
‘Well, better late than never, I suppose.’ Steve turned to Vince with a questioning look on his face. ‘I wonder why you forgot about them until now.’
Chapter Twenty Four
Suzi looked up as Mark joined her by the window.
‘I’ve been checking out the cheque book against the bank statement,’ she said, as he sat down, ‘and I’ve found something that needs explaining.’ She pushed the cheque book across the table. ‘Did you make out a check to Gary Hyland for a thousand pounds?’
Mark fidgeted with the string of his apron before answering. ‘Yes,’ he admitted, reluctantly. He was about to continue when Suzi interjected.
‘But why? We don’t owe him any money. He was paid in full the first week in January.’ She glared at the man by her side. ‘Would you mind telling me what it’s all about?’
‘I needed some cash,’ Mark explained, diffidently. ‘Gary lent me a thousand pounds and I gave him a cheque to cover the loan.’
‘But you’re not supposed to use that money for private reasons. It doesn’t belong to you,’ Suzi said, angrily. ‘The Stow Restaurant account is intended to finance the running of the restaurant. It’s not a personal account for you, or for me.’
‘I know, but I needed the money in a hurry and I didn’t have time to go to the bank.’
Suzi continued to glare at Mark as he twisted his apron string nervously. She felt more than angry; she was distressed that he should take advantage in this way. She felt betrayed. There was really no need to ask why he had taken the money—that was obvious. Gary had been a regular visitor over the past week or two and they had spent most of their time together discussing racehorses.
‘What have you done with the thousand pounds? Lost it on a horse, I suppose?’
‘On the contrary,’ Mark said, brightening up. ‘The horse won and I’ve put the money back into the account. It’ll probably show up in the next statement.’
‘Where’s the deposit slip?
‘Probably in my coat pocket. I’ll get it for you.’ He returned a few minutes later and laid it on the table. ‘There it is, see? No harm done.’
‘That’s what you think.’ When he asked what she meant, Suzi replied, ‘Never mind. Just leave me alone.’
She watched him walk away, and wondered why he hadn’t said anything to her. Surely he knew that she would pick up the discrepancy sooner, or later. She had intended to ask if she could borrow money from the operating account to help defray her moving expenses, but had decided it wasn’t fair. It was against the principle of their business arrangement. And now Mark had taken advantage of her and done the very thing she had decided was unethical for herself. She gathered up the papers, stuffed them into the folder, and stormed out of the building.
Tears of anger welled up into her eyes as she drove away from the restaurant. She had been so excited about moving into Caxton Manor, that she had expected everything else to fall into place, too. Steve had unexpectedly agreed, in principal anyway, to her proposal to use the conservatory for private parties, and suddenly all those plans were threatened. And now she was having strong doubts about Mark’s honesty.
Without making a conscious effort, she headed across the village to where Charlize worked. Her friend looked up as she walked into the office.
‘Hi, what brings you here?’ Then, as she noted Suzi’s grim appearance, she cried out, ‘Hey… what’s wrong?’ She slid out from behind her desk. ‘You look like you need a strong coffee.’ By the time they had finished a second cup, Suzi had unburdened herself and felt a lot better. The two women discussed various options, but were no closer to a solution when the young office assistant called out to Charlize,
‘Will you take line one? It’s personal.’
Charlize picked up the phone identified herself and then gave a little cry of delight. She looked at Suzi and mouthed the word Lloyd.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She replaced the phone and stood up. ‘I must go. Lloyd managed to get on an earlier flight, and bussed down from Heathrow to Cardiff. I’ll pick him up from there.’ She kissed Suzi’s cheek. ‘I’ll check with you soon.’
After Charlize had roared off in the direction of the motorway, Suzi drove back to her house to pick up a few things before going to the Manor for her protracted stay. Even though it was only a partial house move, her little bungalow looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone. Black plastic bin liners, suitcases, and several wooden tea chests filled the front room and spilled out into the hall. She just hoped she could get everything packed in time for the small removal van that was booked for a pickup in the morning. Fortunately she didn’t have to concern herself about the restaurant because Narelle was prepared to cover the lunch-time trade.
She dropped her coat on the nearest piece of furniture and looked around. A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she recalled some of the events that had taken place there. In-as-much as she mourned the death of her mother, the bungalow had provided the means to pursue the long-standing dream to have her own restaurant. Of course, it had be
en very much her mother’s place. She couldn’t remember much about the house in Lampeter, where she spent her formative years, but the memory of the main roads in Lampeter had stuck in her mind all those years. They were exceptionally wide—wide enough, so she was told, to allow a trio of horses pulling a cart to turn around in the road.
Her father had been living there at the time. He had gone to Scotland to work on one of the first oilrigs to be commissioned off the Scottish coast. And had never returned. Annabelle had kept up the pretence of their marriage for some years. On the few occasions she had asked about her father, Annabelle had little to say except that he had walked out their lives, and she had no idea where he was.
Suzi had proved later that her mother’s allegations were false. Her father had continued to support them even though the marriage had ceased to exist many years earlier. Her eventual enquires revealed that he had been killed in an oilrig explosion off Aberdeen and was buried on the northeast coast of Scotland. The cause of the explosion was a simple enough mix-up. A piece of paper had been lost. Crucially, however, that piece of paper had borne a warning to overnight staff not to use one of two gas pumps from which a pressure relief valve had been removed for overhaul.
It was used in error, and as a result a valve blew and the situation became increasingly dire. Many men died from the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning as they waited for a helicopter that never came. Then came a series of underwater explosions which blew apart the oil and gas lines from the neighbouring platforms. It appeared to coincide with the time her mother sold the house in Lampeter and moved to Wales.
She often wondered about her father. It was not hard to imagine why he had found life with her mother so hard to bear. Her own relationship with Annabelle had always been difficult and fraught with upsets. Fortunately, time had eased the pain and now she was able to accept that her mother must have been slightly psychotic.
Written in the Stars Page 18